Working For The Weekend
by spinoffitsaxis
Summary: Botany student Logan gets a job gardening on Dr. Knight's estate.
1. Chapter 1

There is nothing worse that being in a 3-person seminar. Hands down, that is the worst scheduling a university student could ever have. Especially when the seminar is taught by your idol. Seeing your inspiration shoot you disappointing glances between the slow, heavy, labored blinks of your puffy and unrested eyes while you (despite how it seems) try your absolute hardest to stay conscious during a 90-minute, 3-person seminar about the theoretical approaches to the studies of botany and biochemistry was heart-wrenching for Logan.

He had big dreams, dreams of becoming a doctor, but his dreams would be shot to shit if he wasn't serious about his academics. He normally was serious about his academics – incredibly serious, actually. He had a 3.89 GPA. But, again, his GPA would be shot to shit if he didn't snap out of snooze and pay attention to Dr. Knight's discussions. He tried to lift his head from his hands, but it was heavy. So heavy that, being too weak to keep it up, it dropped onto the table with a disruptive thud. His classmates shit him looks that said, "Get your shit together, Mitchell. We're embarrassed just being next to you." Logan closed his eyes, not because he was tired, but because he couldn't bear with the reactions he saw on the faces of the other four people in the room.

The second his lids closed, a timer went off from the TA's cell, indication that it was time for a 10-minute break before resuming class. The other two students and the TA sprung from the small round table and left the room, eager to get some air. Logan was left alone with Dr. Knight.

For a few seconds, there was a silence so awkward it was unbearable. Logan knew he should say something. Apologize, maybe, for basically falling asleep on her. He lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Dr. Knight said

"So, Logan, how are you finding this class lately?" She didn't make eye contact and kept her gaze on the papers she was ruffling through in her navy binder.

Logan had never felt more intimidated. _God_, he thought, _what the fuck does she want me to say to that? Should I go for the truth? Let her know how much I love her class? It might seem like I'm just kissing ass…though a little bit of that would certainly be in order after my magnificent class participation this last half hour. You know what, no. I'm going to be honest. Honesty's the best policy…right? Isn't that what they say?_

"Great! Really very interesting, Doctor! I'm learning a _lot_, Doctor! It's really one of my favorite classes! No, no, my favorite class!" he replied, nervous stutters punctuation his speech. _Christ, I'm such a dork for saying any of that._

"Really?" replied Knight, faking incredulity. "I wouldn't have assumed you felt that way after today's class."

His poor heart almost stopped beating at that remark. He wasn't surprised that she'd brought it up – he would have been more surprised if she hadn't mentioned at all – it was just that hearing the words out of her mouth was a lot tougher than he'd thought. He didn't like being a letdown. He scrambled to redeem himself:

"I'm so so sorry, Dr. Knight! I really do love your class, and I could kill myself for making you think otherwise! Oh God, I know it seems bad from where you're standing, and while I hate to make excuses for myself, I haven't slept well these past few days. Well really I haven't slept at all the past few days. I've just been really busy looking for a job so I can pay for next semester's books and what not and I really don't want yo –"

She put up a hand to shush him. "Jesus, Logan, you're racing."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm just reall –"

"Right back to racing, sweetie." She giggled a bit.

Logan gulped, then caught his breath and organized his thoughts. He sheepishly raised his head and muttered, "I just don't want you to get the wrong impression of me as a student, Doctor."

She laughed at that, which made Logan basically shit his pants. _OH GOD, SHE ALREADY HATES ME CHRIST SAVE ME WHAT WAS I THINKING IT'S LIKE I GO INTO AUTOMATIC KISS-ASS MODE AROUND TEACHERS WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME._

Dr. Knight's next words brought Logan back from his nightmarish thoughts.

"I'm not mad at you, Mitchell. I know that you enjoy my classes, otherwise you wouldn't be one of my favorite students."

Now he thought she was just mocking him or trying to shut him up.

"One of your favorites out of three, huh?" He laughed breathily, flashing his smile in an attempt to ward off any disrespect that could have been detected in his response.

"Ha, ha, ha. No, out of all my students. I love your zeal for learning, Mitchell. It'll get you places, I can tell you that much."

Logan could have sworn he felt his jaw drop. _One of her favorites…My idol, MY IDOL, has declared me one of her favorites. Holy shit._

"Wow, really? I mean, thank you, honestly, thanks so much. That means a lot."

"Aww, you're welcome, kiddo. Say, you still need a job?" She didn't wait for an answer from him. At this point she wasn't even looking at him. She was rummaging through her purse. "I have a pretty serious set up in my backyard; tons of exotic plants, all needing very specific care. Requires a real professional, you know, knowledgeable and comfortable with the plants. I think you meet those qualifications, Mitchell."

Logan wanted to pinch himself, but that would only be embarrassing when he realized she was serious. "Um…what? I mean, sorry, but, uh, excuse me?"

"You'd come over to my estate whenever you're free, though I'd require you put in at least an hour's of work every Saturday. I'd give you, what, $75 a week. More, if you put in a lot of extra time. How does that sound?"

He just stared. That was all he could do: stare. The renowned Dr. Knight was inviting him to her house to tend to her estate. And was willing to pay him $75 a week. This was incredible.

"Hello. Mitchell. What's your answer? Is it, uh, a yay or a nay?"

"YAY!" he took a second to compose himself, not wanting to scare her with him enthusiasm. He cleared his throat. "I mean, sorry, yes. Of course."

"Great!" She was beaming, which had Logan's cheeks blushing redder than a ripe tomato. "Can you start, let's see…can you start tomorrow? That's Wednesday."

"Tomorrow's great. Thanks you so much, Doctor!"

"No problem. Thanks for being available. You're doing me a real favor here, considering the shoddy job my son's been doing of taking care of my little babies."

_A son…I didn't know she had a son._

"No worries, Doc. I'll take excellent care of them for you."

"I'm sure you will. Maybe you could even teach my son a thing or two!" She laughed, and Logan joined in.

"Yeah, definitely."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of "You and I Both" floating through the air from his phone across the room. But even the tune of one of his favorite songs couldn't bring a smile to his face. For what seemed like the thousandth night in a row, Logan had barely slept over an hour. The song was still playing from his cellphone on the dresser across the room, but he was not ready to leave the bed yet. Situating himself on his elbows, he removed his sleep shirt, balled it up tightly, and hurled it at the small, silver gadget. He made his target, and the phone fell to the floor with a loud thud that would have been unbearable if the crash hadn't disabled the alarm. He lay in bed, listening to the sounds of university life: leaves rustling in the trees outside the window, showers from the suites next door, whatever techno/house/darkstep song was currently the shit pouring out of twenty open windows across the campus, all out of sync with each other.

He took a deep breath through his nose, ran his fingers roughly through his hair, and swung his feet out of from under the sheet and onto the scoffed, splintered, faded wooden floor of his dorm room. His roommate, James, was gone already, although he has all afternoon classes. _Probably with that Latin kid across the hall, again_, he thought to himself. He rubbed his eyes, scratched his balls, and stretched like a kitten waking from a nap - shaking head to toe as he wrestled off the sleep his body was begging him for. He checked the time on his phone:

"_Shit!_ Shit shit shit…"

It was 10:30, and he'd planned to be at Dr. Knight's by 11. He sped through his shower, cleaning his body only to the bare minimum. Brushed his teeth, threw on a t-shirt and some raggedy Levi's, shoved his feet in his boots (sans socks), grabbed his knapsack and headed out.

He looked over the email from Dr. Knight for what must have been the hundredth time, unsure why he was so nervous. He soon remembered where his nerves had come from – he was spending the day at his professor's _house_: something that otherwise doesn't happen unless you're fucking your teacher to get your grade bumped up. It was all very new to him, but he knew he shouldn't have been making such a big deal about it.

Following the directions in the email, he pulled into the Knight estate at around 11, give or take a few minutes. The house was pretty nice from the front, with small a cute little patio in the front, complete with rocking chair and that two-person swing thing you see in every Southern-set family drama film. The back, however, was breathtaking. A grand expanse of open green land, almost too much to be considered a "yard" or "lawn". The back of the house was lined with her rows of plants, which he fascinated to see, not only because he had worried earlier that he wouldn't be able to find her garden and would encounter her son while searching for it, but also because the plants in the garden were nothing too scary or too tough to work with. Lots of sunflowers, daffodils, lilac, and mint. All generally manageable, actually. He wondered how anybody could have fucked them up, thinking again of her son.

After a second of thinking about what the Knight family life must be like, with Dr. Knight and her little tyke running around trying to take care of the flowers, he decided to get to work, opting to stay long enough for Dr. Knight to see him working, but not so long as to be too far from "just finishing up". If he had to make small talk with the doctor, he would probably stab himself with the hoe and dig himself a grave. Something about that woman was so intimidating to him…Jesus.

He got to work, donning his gloves and ripping the weeds from the soil and tossing them into the wheelbarrow he'd taken from her garden shed a few yards away. He found gardening to be therapeutic, enjoying the feel of the moist soil as bits of it fell into his gloves and rubbed across his hands while he worked. The smell of mint and lilacs was so sweet and light, it brought him a much-needed peace. Even though he'd prefer sleeping to anything else, this was nice, too. He began humming to himself, quietly at first, then a bit louder, occasionally singing aloud when it came time for his favorite verses.

Logan finished weeding the garden, and put his singing on pause to push the wheelbarrow over to the compost station Dr. Knight had all set up. As he did so, he heard a hum in the background, a light reverberation buzzing through the air, seemingly coming from nowhere. He turned behind him and saw, on the balcony outside the second story window, a man, playing guitar. He was in all black, but his hair was in an interesting cut and a gorgeous dirty blonde. _Gorgeous? Really, Logan? C'mon._ He was tall and could've been seen as being skinny if he hadn't been holding the guitar the way he was – toned arms supporting the instrument while the fingers of one hand flicker across the frets and those of the other hand strung rhythmically.

Logan finds himself lost in what this boy is doing, despite how commonplace it is to play guitar. However, the boy has just switched from playing slow, sleepy notes to the opening chords of "You and I Both", at which point Logan realizes this kid is the shit. He hasn't had it in his mind to ask himself who the boy is until now, and after thinking for a second, he realizes.

…_Is this her son? I could've sworn he was younger that this. Ten, twelve max. But – what – nineteen, twenty? I would've never guessed. I wonder wh –_

The boy starts singing. Beautifully. Logan is now completely taken with this kid, never realizing how mesmerizing music can be when performed live like that, and with the passion that this kid had.

He must have been staring, because just as Logan's favorite lines came up – _If nothing else, I'll think the bells inside have finally found you someone else, and that's okay _– the music stopped abruptly, guitar and vocals discontinued without a warning and a loud, unwanted silence filling the air. Logan snapped out of his daze and saw the boy on the balcony, stand up, drop his guitar to the floor without a care for it, and glare at him. All the soft, romanticized passion that had been in him while he was with his music had transformed into something dark and cruel, and Logan could tell from the way he stared with his bright green irises that the boy was seeing red. Logan gasped subconsciously, and stared back, not knowing what else to do. The boy then scoffed loudly, turned on his heal, released a string of profanities that were probably directed at Logan – though he couldn't be sure – and stormed inside the house, slamming the doors to the balcony with a force that shook the glass windows violently and a sound that stung Logan's ears, for it was the undeniable sound of the thunder of loathing and disgust.


End file.
